In Shades of Rust
by FeverentMaim
Summary: Slowly, do old masks fall away, as villains and heroes alike come to face their own verities.
1. Kairi: Hibiscus

Kairi does not wear a crown, nor does she remember that she ever had.

...

As a little girl, the only thing Kairi could remember was her name. All else, before the sands on the shore, or the faces of two smiling boys, was nothing in her mind's eye but a space so abruptly obliterated to black. The amnesia frightened her enough that she rarely thought upon it, instead reciting only the letters in her name as a small comfort that something had filled the gap, a memory of a place she once called home.

But the matter of where, how or why, was never really asked, nor did Kairi ever care to find the answers. Time replaced the void, with days working in the sun, and dusks spent playing around fires of drywood. The islands, the boys, were her world.

And in her world, she had believed herself intrinsic; of something that survived on the reliance of each and every. On an indescribable connection.

Some time after their return, Kairi found herself watching from afar as the boys celebrated in their reverie. Splashing and laughing, a well-worn blitzball flying among them as they played a winning streak against Tidus and Wakka. It used to be that Sora couldn't catch the ball to save his life, nor could Riku spike the ball without sending it a million miles down the shore.

Kairi looked away, allowing the laughter to be lost in the echo of the waves.

As she wandered along the beach, her eyes were grabbed by a shrub of beautiful hibiscus, frilling blooms in shades of oranges and pinks. She reached out to touch them, reminded of how once when they were young, she and the boys would play with the blossoms, decorating each other's hair in adornments of vibrant colors.

The gargantuan pedals were soft, eloquent in their delicate texture. She remained by the flowers, for longer than she should have, brushing them with her gentle fingers and a distant smile.

...

The boys disappeared once more through a letter in a bottle. Kairi assumed it would again be another year with the fishermen and the farmers to pass the time.

They were gone at least a week when Riku was unexpectedly at her cottage door.

He gave no explanation to his return, or why Kairi was suddenly to leave with him beyond the islands, but the urgency in his voice was enough. She wandered into her room, pulling out a large duffle bag and unzipping it furiously, then haphazardly throwing her affects into its gaping mouth without rhyme or reason.

Riku stood in the doorway, expecting his help to be invited until eventually he took his own initiative, folding the harried pile of garments and loading toiletries into pockets in the lining.

Kairi could feel the look he wore, the air between them heavy in the profound silence. She avoided it on the guise of distraction, pacing back and forth across the room to nearly walk a ditch in the floor.

"Hey." Riku muttered finally, and Kairi turned to him, half-way reaching for a bar of unopened palm soap above her bedroom sink. Riku took a moment to scan her face, trying to read Kairi's empty expression as if it was an open book.

"You okay?"

She gave a light nod, almost looking him in the eye as agitation grew pronounced - "Yes, I'm fine" - then threw the soap with a casual toss.

...

In their small village, strangers did not exist. Kairi knew vividly every face, every unique voice that called out, as neighbors gathered in their short reunion. Riku's family was the first, his mother eager to place a kiss on their foreheads, and his father kicking the breath out of their lungs with hardy pats of familial love. Sora's mother inevitably had her turn, enveloping the youths in a tender embrace while Riku reassured her that her only son would be safe and well.

Through the height of the fanfare, Kairi broke away from Riku. She passed from one well-wisher to the next, accepting their farewells in a manner that strikingly reminded her of royalty. Some offered her trinkets, like small, speckled shells and straw dolls. Others parted with only a blessing, praying for wisdom and strength to guide them through their journey.

Then, out of the density of the crowd, a crusted hand abruptly grabbed at her own. Kairi spun, her posture growing rigid as she nearly tore at the elder woman's arm unwittingly in her surprise. She bowed in apology, anticipating an admonishment that was sure to come.

But the dark-skinned elder said nothing, instead smiling quietly and widely as calloused fingers again took up her arm. Held within a loose fist, Kairi saw in her free hand the pedals of a familiar flower, stems strung along a fishing wire to make a small wreath of marbled oranges and pinks.

"It was only a matter of time." The elder chuckled softly, her voice barely audible above the cacophony of the affair. She placed the garland slowly around Kairi's wrist, wrapping row after row with a practiced grace until what was left hung from the side. When she looked up to Kairi once more, her smile remaining infallibly grand, the younger's face had been visibly struck with shocking disbelief.

The elder nodded gently in return, patting Kairi's hand in comfort as her throat rumbled with a humored chortle.

The party began to disperse. The elder turned with the sway of the villagers, leaving Kairi to look onward as they waved for one last time. Riku was all but ignored when he walked to her side, his arm swinging a few returning gestures as he looked down to see the gift, the loose end calmly dancing in the midst of an idle breeze.

...


	2. Ienzo: Mirror of My Eye

Ienzo was ill.

The pitch black of the morning didn't help to soothe, so much as it kept his feverish delusions to minimum. A tremendous weakness had overcome him as he woke, his flesh thrumming, twisting, chilling him to the bone in the aftermath of some worrisome dream.

Light broke, and he mustered meekly out of bed, grabbing his robes and dressing with whatever care his trembling hands would allow.

When he opened the door to his quarters, lost equilibrium forced him to mind heavily on the placement of his feet. Ienzo struggled to make his way through the castle, passing the many floors down to the labs while wobbling to stay upright. Several times he saw one stairstep for another, the fleeting anxiety forcing him to clutch at the rail as the world swirled like a whirlpool in his vision.

His confusion, his vertigo did not matter to him more than the comfort of walls, warm and amicable in the desolation of judgement.

...

By the time Ienzo had arrived in the labs, most of his sickness had dispelled, save for a faint rolling in his head. He rubbed his temples as he entered, a taut man in like robes presiding over a mangled swath of files and books, nose pressed into a thick tome.

Even looked up for just a glimpse, speaking while he skimmed over a page. "Good morning, Ienzo." he greeted in tired monotone. "Have a seat. There is an incredible amount of work to be done."

Ienzo almost ignored him, blinking distracted at his godfather's dismal appearance. More out of habit than necessity, he picked up his bangs to include his hidden eye, noting the messy ascot and his usually smooth hair in absolute disarray. His irises were also richer and greener, the intensity of their illumination growing apparent as Ienzo drew closer.

"Is the Committee house covered in ice again?" he asked, his voice pitched in an attempt to be cheerful.

Even shot him a livid look, none amused as he snarled with a harried breath. "Ienzo... Your sense of humor is poorly choiced. Now sit down."

The boy obeyed, his face flattened into a sullen grimace. He snatched with an affronted lick from the stacked menagerie, infantile as he slumped into his seat, and tried to read. Concentration was slow to come together, peevish and sleepless thoughts dragging behind his awareness of words, reading without truly reading. When sand finally stopped drizzling through a grey sift, he restarted at the top, prepared. He achieved a mere sentence.

Ienzo stared at the script, too petrified by the familiar, faded ink. Each letter penned smooth, the graceful loops and swinging tails a curling menace across, glaring back at him in wretched flare. In his mind, they transformed, a child once more watching glowing hearts entrapped behind glass in the dark. It was just a piece, but there it laid on cold steel, a destructive catalyst evolving with its words constructed in conniving construition.

The young scholar nearly slammed the paper when he set it down, breathing deeply as he forced the ominous delusions to clear his head. Only strings, he reasoned, on a weaver's board. They could not harm, if they did not tug.

Releasing another calming breath, he plucked the page in his fingertips, reading it anew as he persevered through the panic that churned at his insides.

...

Through the entire morning till noon, Even and Ienzo searched the yellowed collection, culling them between two groups until all were stacked neatly on either side of the room. Another few hours passed by as they searched the labs for their old equipment, mostly repairing what had been broken, or doing without what was beyond repair. Much to Even's despair, the loss included many of the chemicals that had been kept in a cuppard, the glass jars having cracked or shattered, and the only trace of their liquid being odorous stains that had dried in drips down the white walls.

The rancid smell of the rotted concoction had chased Ienzo outside to the postern, leaving Even defeated and half-asleep. Solemn, his arms pillowed his head on the railing, calming from a terrible heave with the sun slowly dipping into the horizon. The glow kindled and shadowed the horrendous landscape, the city and the wilds beyond demur under colors that were distinct in only one other city of twilight.

Nervous fingers ran through his hair. The water was the most absent of what had been bright - a shining ocean reduced to small a lake on the southern side by Maleficent's abuse. The one comfort Ienzo found was the fountains that marked every district, bursting from their spouts the pristine, enchanting drops that had made the world its former glory.

A thunderous rattle in the floor gave him a startled jump, and he looked behind bemused. His hand flew up to his bangs as he saw Aeleus, the guard painted in a dirty mess of red mud smeared on his face, on his suit, caked in the crevices of rolled sleeves and hands left bare by soiled gloves draping over his shoulders. The younger apprentice could not help but gape at him, debating if the giant had been in a banter with tulips or a riot of laborers.

"They were restoring a wall originally made of clay bricks." Aeleus grunted, not missing the quizzical essence of Ienzo's gesture. "They required my assistance."

He pulled back his hair, 'I see' an inaudible mumble as his head dropped back into the cradle of his limbs. Aeleus moved next to him, tilting to see the younger's face beneath the unruly strands. Ienzo did not look up. He could hear the rumbling in Aeleus' voice."Where is Even?"

"Sulking in the laboratory." He replied with a short rasp. His throat bobbed with the force of swallowing down his spit, attempting in vain to drown the sour taste of vomit on his tongue.

Aeleus remained unwaveringly still in Ienzo's peripheral. Whether he was willing to tell or not, perusal was branded into the giant as a second nature - so it was no surprise when Ienzo saw the guard shuffle through his pockets, withdrawing a small tie bag that was crinkled and heavy on its string. Aeleus gently placed the bag in his hand, holding it up to Ienzo's face as he looked at it reluctantly in a long pause. He took a glance up at Aeleus' face questionably, taut muscles squinting in a silent command.

As he unraveled the little sac, he poured out the contents; one a medicine bottle full of herbacous green, the other he recognized as piece of cheese wrapped in a cloth.

A rotund finger tapped over the glass neck. "This will help with the nausea." Aeleus said as he uncovered the cheese, pulling the corners of the cloth around like a breadloaf before placing it back Ienzo's hand. "Take it before you eat."

...

It struck Ienzo more than it should have for his ability to keep in tempo with Aeleus' march. Though Zexion indeed grew to the effect of an adult, in the recesses of his subconscious he had remained three paces tall. At the thought, Ienzo swung his legs a kick forward, the bounding steps forcing a gleeful smile to spread across his lips.  
They passed through the old study, Aeleus wary of the desk and chair their master once sat in silence. Ienzo shivered, almost strutting ahead in gallant strides into the basement's once hidden secret.

A cacophony leaked all the way into the manufactory. Aeleus stopped at the door to the storage unit, turning to catch Ienzo's eye at the same time his hand twisted the doorknob. Curious, Ienzo looked to see Even's form behind the fogged glass.

"Sulking?" Aeleus asked in a blunt tone.

"He was when I left."

The creaking of the door was undisruptive of the engrossed scientist. Dusty boxes formed a blockade on the floor, each splayed open and overflowing with tangled tubes, tuners, flasks, and a burner too tall for its container. He fiddled within one particular box, too far on the other side of the room for either Aeleus or Ienzo to see it.

"Even."

His hair swung over his shoulder as he turned sharply, his lidded expression showing indifference to Aeleus' sullied condition. "You've finally arrived." he replied, his usual bite drawled by a stifled yawn. "I was convinced they were to keep you 'till sundown."

By the tip of his toe, Ienzo absently pushed away a portion of the disused collection, appalled by the mess and the must smell that flooded his nose. "I am to take patrol with Leon tonight." Aeleus harrumphed

"Ah. They're certainly keeping you busy, aren't they?" Even only sounded half-surprised, rising with his choice held against his chest. He stopped to meet Ienzo, undeterred by his godson's disgruntled look at his finger pointing to the sealed package on the other side."I was wondering where you were." he huffed rapidly. "Take that and follow me. Both of you."

Even careened around the doorway without looking back, footsteps fading while Aeleus watched Ienzo dance indignantly to reach the enclosed box. Ienzo heard a muffled clank of glass, a heavy swish of fluid throwing the weight, and the box, off balance.

"Can you carry it?" Aeleus called as Ienzo swerved in his struggle to grip the box. Ienzo nodded, steadying it in his arms long enough to notice sloppy black letters written on the top. 'Reserve' it said. Ienzo tipped his with a gnawing feeling, suspicious he had seen those letters before.

"Ienzo." His focus snapped, hearing his name rough. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." Ienzo muttered, waltzing passed him into the hallway. "Nothing, it's just heavy."

They followed the voluminous underground through the manufactory. The laboratories themselves consisted of a number of rooms along a thin hallway, dead-ending at the doors of a master lab, where Even had begun to construct a set up of what was to be the inverse of an original experiment. Ienzo could feel his cheeks warm by the heat of the burners; with only one working vent, the boiling air had nowhere to go but swirl up into the ceiling as water did down a bath drain.

Even noticed them from behind the contraption, his face warping and twisting by the odd glass shapes in flowing succession. Ienzo found discomfit watching him, the glass an unpleasent reminder of silly mirrors in a funhouse, deforming and perverting his reflection into the body of a grotesque nightmare.

The box moved gently from one set of arms to another, Even being no better at holding it without tipping over. Ienzo continued to glance over the chemistry set, squinting astutely at its design. "Even, why..." He started as his godfather placed the box carefully on a rusted table. "...Are you building this now when we have nothing to use?"

Even answered with his fingers tucked inside the thin crack of the lid, readying to pry it open with force. "We do not have very much, no. However, I did come across THIS -"

In an efforted squawk, the seal boomed a resounding pop as it split. Wax crumbled and spun to the floor like confetti pieces, a large glass of an impenetrably dark solution lifted out shakingly but triumphant in Even's hand.

Ienzo froze. His nerves struck dread and pain, recognizing the liquid in a dire instant. He felt every muscle in his face become steel, his heart beginning to thump in his chest like a hare as his focus switched from the flask to Even peering at its contents. "Xehanort must have made this." He continued to say in an utter. "That would explain why it was hidden...".

"Then put it back."

The unease sunk into the atmosphere as a glacier in the ocean. Even and Aeleus both suddenly faced Ienzo's conspicuous sneer, glancing to one another unnerved. "Ienzo, what is the meaning of this?" Even said firmly, letting down the flask to the table with stark caution. There was a clunk, the slight vibration throwing up the purple eddies smoking the black liquid.

Ienzo could feel the awful riling in his gut, his temples pumping boiling blood in a minuscule drum. "I will not participate in this if you plan to use that villainy for our efforts."

A great sigh was expelled. Even heeded him with great vexation, trying with difficulty to maintain his own calm "There has to be darkness if we are to do this, Ienzo." He responded, father and teacher emerging through the assurance of his voice. "The Heartless are a full threat to more than just this city, and if we must -."

"We are forbidden!"

As he spoke, almost shouted with seismic trepidation, Ienzo was caught by a blur standing by Even's fixture. A figure tall and white, its features at first indistinct. He watched it confusedly, blinking with the feeling that his vision had lost focus, until a stroke of light refracted into the phantom's every detail, the fraction of a moment revealing an old and dismaying face.

On his heel, Ienzo turned. His steps were hurried through the double doors, coming off as seething raps in how they landed against the stone tile. He could hear little of Aeleus calls above the crescendoing heartbeat, fear carrying him away as much as composure would allow to the basement stairwell.

He ran. He ran and ran in a maddened dash upwards, even as his breath became shallow, as a sickening dizziness quickly consumed his wit. He fought to stay aware of the difference between sprinting and falling, the battle soon forfeit to the rush of blood that drove his head fainter at the speed of his ascent.

He stopped at the lavender color marking his room, by then his surroundings utterly lost to him. There was no pain when his back hit the door, collapsing with a cold sensation sending him into an abyss.

...

Night had fallen when he opened his eyes. They adjusted slurringly, taking in what little light spilled from the collective of streetlights spread across the city. Consciousness was just as sluggish to return, the room tipping this way and that like children playing on a seesaw. The feeling made him abhorrently sick, bringing him back down each meek attempt he tried to so much as lift his head.

Impatience soon conquered his nausea, hoisting him up by his palms to stagger against the wall. His body rebelled; without warning, he doubled over in a gripping chunder, mire landing in a putrid gush. Sharp breath pulled back the rest of the bile, and as his breathing evened, he cringed at the gross, peachy-colored texture well visible under window's luminescence. Repulsion urged languid steps to the battered piece of wood that was his dresser, a glance passing over his image as fractured as the many, inordinate shards in the cracked mirror.

Only, he looked up again. Once, then twice in disbelief, and not by the damaged distortion itself. The color of his eyes were wrong, an awful glimmer of yellow mixing in with blue. Ienzo edged closer, frightfully transfixed by the malady belying his likeness.

Something moved. He felt the presence as he had seen it, reflected a hundred times in the broken copy of his room. A shadow within the shadows, the contour partially revealed in the dim, pale light. Terror narrow in the beads of his pupils, Ienzo whipped around to the accused spot where his intruder waited. His eyes flickered alert from the wall to his bed, adrenaline readying for a fight to ensue.

But the corner was empty. No towering figure veiled in the dark, simply wall cracks and ruined paper rustling with the draft. He turned back to the mirror in a residual sense of paranoia, himself staring back through the fragments with the normal, natural chroma of azure.

Ienzo grabbed at the lowest of the drawers in a frenzy, pulling out a dusty candle and a case of matches. He set the candle alight, the small flare quivering to life as it spread its glow across the room. Quiet minutes passed, while he watched with some distant relief the white of the slender flame.

Later that night, he managed to drift into slumber, the flicker still flitting upon a night stand with the brightest of its light touching paled skin.


	3. Lea: In Circles

Lea - In Circles

It is for him he seeks without end.

...

The Mysterious Tower was as its namesake. Walls, floors, or even the roof was a fantasy of the non-bewitched, the strange space within an enchantment delicately carved into an existence of its own. There was architecture of a kind, but abiding by a semblance of order that was at best eccentric, and at worst tumultuous.

'Mysterious' or no, Lea remained after Sora and Riku had returned from the waking world. He spent those days restless, much of the time navigating the incessant, disconjointed maze of rooms that eventually spiraled his patience into acrid confusion.

One afternoon, that maze lead him towards an unexpected view of the grounds, the door having before been to his guestroom. Lea's resolve arrived on the edge of detestment, swearing quietly he would never again take hostel in a sorcerer's world.

Yet a spelled mist above his bed bid to him for forgiveness, a vivid reflection of the heavens doming the ceiling through churning, colored wafts. Verdant eyes charted the universe, pretty stars shimmering, the moon almost frozen in place as it floated so drolly along its orbit.

Lea sighed, his warm breath pushing a stray puff. He had laid there in the hopes of sleep, letting the heat in his body quell into a small fire that soothed away the knots in his muscles. It felt he had been watching the night for hours since, a man of lycan traits looking back in the face of that rounded moon.

A decade had scrolled through his mind like a zoetrope, reliving the past as if he had been indeed a man with a heart. The many words they exchanged; Isa's subtle glances, and the beaming smirks Lea would give in return - they had meaning then, but now was that significance something else entirely to him.  
He sat up, fists striking into the mattress and their power rippling through the sheets. Smoke rose from his body to distort the image in the ceiling's cloud, the smell clogging his nostrils as a reminder of his volatile control.

What swelled in his chest forced his eyes painfully shut. His skin was hotter than the tears, and so there were no streaks when he cried.

...

"You wish to return to the Garden?"

The elderly sorcerer glided his hand along the crinkled strands of his beard, his gaze stern and stalwart over Lea as he sat calmly at his desk.

"I'm not of much use here." Lea replied, waving a hand across the air with a nonchalant shrug. "And the folks back home need all the help they can get."

Yen-Sid arched a brow high upon his forehead. "Very well." He knelt over in his chair, fingers gracing over wood grain to search for a compartment. When his hand rose again, there was a trinket, a golden sun almost the size of Lea's whole hand. "Speak to it of where you wish to go, and it shall take you with haste."

Lea took the medallion with more decorum than he thought he possessed. He shifted to exit with a nod, feeling he had been dismissed, until Yen-Sid's voice lifted a resounding and commanding tone. "Lea."

He stopped, whipping around with evident impatience. "How old were you when your heart was taken?"

Vivid green stared startled at stone-grey. Lea thought how irregular the query, unwarranted as it was unwanted from an elderly magician who knew not of his name a week before. "Fifteen." Lea muttered, his voice falling quiet.

Yen-Sid rose from his chair with supple grace, garnering his way to stand before Lea as if he were leading an army. Withal his height, Lea still felt something like cowering in the sorcerer's presence, looking down upon the crested wrinkles that rimmed an all-knowing gleen.

"Whatever you must do, Lea -" He said, Lea looking at the wizard eye to eye as a good-natured pat landed firmly on his shoulder."- Be it so that you do not become a slave to the chaos within your heart."

Red brows angled, Lea forming a stiff expression while his chin tipped curtly in response.

Yen-Sid released his shoulder, and as he turned seemingly towards his tall-backed chair, he uttered simply. "I shall inform the boys that you have gone." Then his body faded, a stirring of magic falling from his shape to the tiled floor.

Lea spun to the study door in a brisk gait. He swung it open without the loss of momentum, expecting to rush down a long, carpeted hall. Instead, he saw a set of stone stairs, his halt so sudden that the rubber of his boots squealed.

In his bemused haze, he glanced down the winding staircase, the tall entrance doors open widely apart. He could see from his vantage the shrubs and the grass of the tower's island, as well as the tallest pines of Twilight Town peering out of the wispy layer of clouds.

...

Construction in the Garden seemed immense from the cliff where the medallion had left Lea in the Maw. Cranes looked like slow, long-necked beasts, and piles of debris alike piles of soot that spilled on the hearth. Stray Heartless wandered through the chasms below him, infesting where there had once been innocent fish and ice-water kelp.

Lea payed none of it mind. He walked by the light of the crystals embedded in the earth, needing no more than to swat the Heartless away like summer flies.

...

Chimes rang over blazing morning colors when he found Aeleus, atop the broken bailey with Leon idling nearby. The great man was habitually expressionless and with little to say, even as Lea followed him from the markets to the grand and malicious manufactory below the castle's foundations.

Dr. Even turned from water boiling in tempered glass, enervation rapidly lost to confined horror in dull-colored ice. The quiver in Lea's eyes shared nearly the same reaction, except he smiled as far as his lips could stretch. "So you're finally out of bed." He said, letting practiced coolness take over his tongue.

One side of the scientist's sharp nose creased. "What is he doing here?" He snapped evenly at Aeleus.

"He found Braig." Aeleus replied, then added hastily. "And Isa."

Mention of either name did not bring Even calm, but he glared with a lesser malice, gathering every shred of tolerance the man had to listen.

Lea's shoulders relaxed in his relief. "You're not going to like what you hear." He said as his smile left, attitude growing sincerely grave in every inch of his face. Realizing he had not seen a single strand of silver about, his eyes flitted over the shadows and chemical-filled colossi, wondering if the youngest of the late lord's students had hid. "Where's Ienzo?"

"He... is in his room on the southern wing." Even intoned. "Asleep."

...

Lea recounted his witness, and quickly saw himself out. He knew it was dangerous to linger where he was not wanted, and such was truer in the presence of an impetuous cryokenetic.

He stopped at the postern, overlooking his wretched homeland. Block by block, buildings stood solemnly blinded by boards, or gouged corpses of spilled brick. Avenues and lanes no longer were straight, tangled like clawed yarn by the destruction that had made them its helpless plaything.

The city was unrecognizable, yet Lea felt cast into a spell of deja vu. One foot after the other, he walked down into the broken streets, sunlight climbing as a clock ticking by.

At fifteen, Lea had boasted the whole city was mapped in his head. That pride had survived, and in circles he wandered; through the courtyards once floral and practice was play; passed dead homes, where red and blue would sneak from the windows in the night; across breaks in the walls that had been unpassable, lest one had a willing pair of shoulders to scale atop.

There was so little as it were, but everything still remained.

As he entered the market, he noticed it fuller than before, shoppers hovering over displays between the few shop fronts that had returned to business. Loudness was twined with steam from vent pipes, the bulk arising from the Moogle-run apothecary. Prices of their wares haggled up and down, much to the delight of the pommed creatures. Second to it was the barking cry of an accented voice. Lea surveyed the scene, spotting a stand set before an oversize cube of steel. An old white duck swung his cane expressively, while three ducklings rotated in and out of a broad, frost-crusted door. A line of children waited eagerly with munny in hand, those who had paid walking their way as they licked the various colors off their treats, their tongues stained with a richer hue.

In those groups of gleeful youth, Lea imagined two boys; one like himself, and one someone he knew. The one held a flame-branded disc in his free hand, waving it to mercurial inflections that prattled an exaggerated tale between licks. The other was quiet, but ears were open wide, an incredulous grin stroked neatly across his lips.

All at once, he closed his eyes. A grimace strained the muscles of his reddened cheeks.

He unfolded his hood, walking while he stuffed unruly hair under the leather. Mr. Scrooge did not recognize him as he passed, but called to him in jest if he feared rain from empty skies.

...

Night began to fall at last. The sun's last breath were as gradients that streamed from orange to red, to indigo and navy. Lea found himself trotting beneath an archway of the castle's private gardens, a sanctuary that in the bygone days had been nestled away from public view.

So many times did he and Isa disregard the bordering walls. Here, they befriended a herald of the seasons, throughout the year transforming in a gorgeous cycle to spirit them with warm blossoms of summer, and white-capped evergreens when it snowed. Isa's favorite had been spring, when the castle staff planted fair lilies that bloomed under silken rays of the moon.

Fire raged alive in Lea's palm, alighting the darkened detritus. Soil had become a grey desert of ash, with trees burned to wicked stalks of ebony. Stone designs were defaced to oblivion, naught but jagged pebbles strewn beside murky waters that filled the paths with cold ravines.

His footsteps were the clamor of a wet cavern. It missed only fluorescent fungi budding on the rubble, and shriveled roots creeping together like veins. Lea believed to have found the latter curving on the ground in the distance, lifeless as the darkness that brought them their decay.

Though when he drew nearer, the firelight turned them green, armed with red-tipped thorns.

"What the...?" Lea whispered, pausing over them suspiciously. His eyes trailed their thickness, swelling gradually in one direction towards a stepped descent that led to the center yard. A chakram flared into the grasp of Lea's fingers, and cautiously he followed.

When he had come upon where the vines grew, Lea had to lift his coat to keep it from snagging. The sere plot had been turned into a sprawled jungle of rose-colored blooms. In some parts, large sprouts had forced through the floor, and stripped entire slabs in their grip to reveal the belying earth.

"Hehheh. Hey, Axel."

He jumped at the voice, his chakram quick at the ready. He was met with a weak gasp, the spectacle of his flame caught glistening in bright, crystal blue.

Lea became stunned, looking wide-eyed at Demyx's strangled body as clarity mounted into a poised, and dreadful vision.


	4. Even: Across The Fields

Even: Across The Fields

A land full of winter is all he can fathom.

...

Abrasive. Harsh. It was how ice felt crusted on Even's fingers, stiff and jagged like his skin had turned into a sheet of tiny sapphires. His hand was heavy with the weight, resting by a half-inked paper with the pen trapped in a glacial clasp.

He examined his frozen fist, defeated by his own element for the first time since he had been a boy.

"Even." Aeleus called with a soft grumble. The scientist sluggishly looked over; bubbles lagged in cold, viscous liquids, and gas poured from the furnace, spilling a dead heat without a flame. The tall guard watched him, ruddy brows ever so slightly loose with care. Even knew his eyes were again stunned with fluorescence.

"And here we thought we had seen the end of this MESS..." Even hissed sourly, listening to iron wail under compression as Aeleus turned the bright red knob on the gas line. The giant replied with nothing, but set beside an aluminum chair, patience as true as the rumination that wore on Even's face.

He felt too wrung with exhaustion, as he reposed against the back of his chair to close his eyes. Still, Even breathed, and with each steadying breath, peace beckoned virulent tension away. He focused solely the rhythm behind his ears - one, two...one, two... one, two.

Conscious thought relinquished, dissolving into wayward dust- notes, calculations, chemical equations, became the fallen flakes on a snow-covered hill, born from a sky laden dreary with grey. Somewhere, somehow, there could be warmth, but inside his fantasy, the seasons were the whim of no more than Even's imagination.

As vividly as he could envision, rich blue soon broke through the clouds, and the warm reach of spring sunshine spread over the white landscape. The snow glinted wet as it melted, unblanketing the flora that slept cold and inert beneath winter's embrace.

Aeleus' voice was heard, rumbling through the ground to feed roots the soil. "How is Ienzo?" He asked gently. Even gasped, aches monopolizing down to the bone as the ice began to recede from his extremities. "I don't know." He shook his head. "Although I don't think he has left his room since last night."

"Was he asleep?"

His tone then was different; it was interrogative, a mood reserved for transgressors who lacked enough subtlety to be caught. Even drew yet a deeper breath to fight the ire that threatened a shivering frost. "When I went to see him, yes. I even left some of your porridge on his night stand." He said with an edged tongue.

The agitation was answer enough. Aeleus reserved himself quietly, while the grass grew green and dewy in Even's lucid dream. The bulbs of flowers too would have risen, with the life that had unfurled from his timid and secluded core.

Even refused to let them grow. They could not bloom. Heat released as much it could through his body, but when he finally opened his eyes, there was no lulling bliss weighing in them, no relief from the thawing strain in his sinew.

He turned to the movement in his peripheral, Aeleus minding him carefully as he rose, almost taking up the scientist's arm when his balance began to sway. A smile finely graced Even's thin lips; if the man wasn't a soldier in his spare time, he was otherwise a keen nurse.

"Should I retrieve Ienzo to come with us?" Aeleus asked as he stood with him. Even gave a sardonic snort, tipping his head with a shake. "Even with you, I doubt he'll leave." He answered, voiced stale and scratched. "He is as obstinate as ever."

"ZEXION was." Aeleus stated briskly. At that, Even paused, and looked to him, weary. An image of the shadowy Nobody crossed through his mind; his blue eyes a shade darker, and the thoughts within them - the complex schemes and plots that were the backbone of their work - distant, unfeeling. Yet, he recognized the boy that was, though be it not his blood, the only living child he called his own.

He sighed, with his eyes stricken shut in lament. "If only he was, Aeleus... If only."

...  
The Committee House was strangely abandoned in the fall of night. As Aeleus and Even entered the door, Sir Merlin stood afront the doorstep, lighting each street lamp with the delicate motions of his wand, acknowledging them with nothing more than a nod.

Dilan was found in his bedroom, restless and subdued. His health was severely ailing, and worse was he confined unwillfully from all capacity, his charm proved inane to woo the stern resolve of Lady Aerith. They saw him sheerly embittered, with ragged blue under his eyes, head laying in a fat pillow like a sickened old man.

Closer to Dilan as a brother than a colleague, Even allowed Aeleus solely to speak, watching Dilan's displeasure ripen with every detail he came to hear of Lea's troubling news.

"So Braig remains with this...Xehenort." He growled, an octave short of aggressive.

Aeleus nodded with a dour frown."What's more, he seemed to have taken Isa with him." he continued tacitly.

Dilan erupted in a disgusted chuckle; a sound so biting and unabashed, Even gaped at him in bewilderment, that then quickly turned into a dangerous grimace. "That surprises me none. The boy was ever more trouble than he knew." Dilan grumbled.

"And you believe that an excuse for Braig's behavior?!" Even barked inimically. A new thrill of cold power attacked his body, feeling his bones again gnaw and his physical heart begin to stall to a slowing pulse. Dilan and Aeleus both gauged him warily, noting the whorl of fog that exposed his breath.

"He and Lea were very regular intruders on the grounds, if you recall, Even." Dilan replied in an austere tone. "Had they payed any attention to the first few times Aeleus and I expunged them from the castle, they would have perhaps escaped to Traverse Town -"

The wooden floor shook slightly under Even's cholered tromp, a print of ice bursting suddenly around his boot. "PERHAPS YOU knew all about Braig's plans from the start, didn't you?! He is your COUSIN, after all!"

Dilan bored at Even quietly, ordinary violet storming into an auroral magenta that would have summoned a vicious wind.

Aeleus grabbed Even's shoulder, however keeping his grip light to abstain from causing pain. The scientist flinched, and glowered madly in return, readying out of instinct to trap Aeleus in a glacier. Aeleus refused to take off his hand. He stopped; the gesture alone was an appeal.

Begrudingly, Even's wrath smeltered, and Dilan, as Aeleus turned to him then, flared a loud exhale from his nostrils, scowling.

The great man spoke, quiet as leaves against the breeze, though strength great like aftershocks through solid stone. "No more blame shall fall upon one of us than the rest." He looked back directly at Even, releasing him. "Regardless of Braig's actions, we enabled him and Xehenort. We are all responsible."

Arms folded, Dilan grew worrying lines over his forehead, growling low and ill. "Including Ienzo?" He said.

Small crawlings of Even's tantrum became raucous crashing of icecaps, the traces dying on the walls. They all looked to each other, troubled and timorous, utterly reticent. None even considered the thought.

None, Even wondered, except Ienzo.

BOOM!

The entire house trembled egregiously. Glass enfeebled by Even's element exploded across the room, out through the pane a hasty growth of green tendrils twisting inside, with florals colored a sordid -

Even dodged behind Aeleus, summoning an ascent of ice to wall himself and Dilan. The silhouette of Aeleus skidded towards them, under his command chunks of cemented rock stalling to a halt.

"Sir Merlin!" Even cried with a shrill shriek. An ensorcelled cloud appeared and popped, the wizard visibly disquieted.

"What the bloody hell is going on?!" Dilan roared.

"We are under attack, what else do you think?!" Merlin shouted rapidly. "Lea arrived here earlier claiming a disturbance in the old garden! It seems they have found the cause!"

Merlin flicked his wand in a wild spree carouseling the room, casting over furniture, books and medicines to disappear in a bright spark. As Even split the ice to let Aeleus in, Dilan signaled him for his aid, and with his arms around the other's shoulders, stood winded and faltering.

"You must go to the castle, now!" shouted Merlin. He careened his wand at the bed, thereupon jumping frantically as his open hand clutched his hat. "- Except you, Mr. Dilan! Lady Aerith will not have it!"

"Neither shall I have laying to waste in a bed!" Spat Dilan with incredible timbre.

Beady eyes rolled around, exasperated, wand sharply jabbing the air. "You can barely summon a gust, you buffoon!" He scolded. "And furthermore, there is a young man dying of a potent toxin that Aerith cannot relieve on her own! You are coming with me!"

"You - !"

"He is right, Dilan." Aeleus interjected, and whatever Dilan read in his exprssion after defeated the mean glowering he had donned. Coolly, Dilan conceded, teleporting with the neurotic wizard in another brume.

The two men did not wait even for the mist to clear. They dashed as quickly as they could outside the house, running across the court to where the road led to the castle. Even saw what draped over the roofs flash by him, and stopped to find himself caught in incredible awe.

The flowers on the vines, they were a color he recognized; the shape of the pedals, the count, the size, the texture of the vine from which they grew.

Fear and anger produced adrenaline. Adrenaline produced heat. Yet for an elemental like Even, he needed not heat, but rather ice to burn.

...

The blasts grew louder as they came. The screams of men and women, the clash of destruction, heard well beyond the garden into the town's proper, the battle taken not just in the hands of the committee, but by ordinary townsfolk in mobs. They charged through the chaos, giving the upper hand to denizens wherever they could. Aeleus was ahead of Even, Skysplitter born proudly on his arm and never more ready to wrought the power of the earth. Even tryingly kept close at his back.

He heard a short, wicked 'zip' from his right, a yellow trail turning his eye before he was seized with painful convulsions. Childish laughter cackled from an alley, high-pitched and catty, all the more familiar as Even spotted a yellow kunai set in the cobblestone, the handle dyed blue at the points.

"Vexen!?"Larxene cried in mock delight, another handful of electrified weapons blitzing between fingers. In his stupefied state, Even broke into a weak run, unable to feel more than a numb trickle in his legs. He stumbled a mere feet of escape from the nymph. "My, my, the dead really are coming back to LIFE!"

The knives whistled and sparked, but never met Even. They crashed into a solid surface, Aeleus swiftly coming between them with Skysplitter crossing his chest. Sparks writhed around his frame, to him absolutely harmless.

Larxene's sneer faltered into something telling, the utmost sincere surprise soundly defeating the sharp cruelty of her voice. "Well, if it isn't big boy!" She called. Before she could lift her hand above her head, the road cracked, and tossed her lithe body against the siding of a house.

Aeleus turned his head halfway, his cry a tremoring boom. "Go! I will take care of her!"

As a wave of retaliatory sparks danced over the upturned ground, Even again ran, his pace returning with bodily control. He sprinted up a hill, where at the top heavy vines were what was left of the garden walls.

And there, with terror did the ice return to breed around him, as he watched the master of the viridian monstrosity gracefully orchestrating its movements like a malicious puppeteer.

Lea and the committee fought a losing battle. Even noticed each of them hunched, exhausted, none without a laceration torn through their clothes or hacked- off remnants curled around their limbs. The verdure pummeled with whips and crushing creepers, forcing them to dodge for their lives rather than fighting the man himself. Lea and Leon took turns sending fireballs to disperse the bedlam, yet more emerged from the blackened edges.

Just as a large and bustled vine swept with deadly force, Cloud became trapped by the ankle, his foot fallen within the inert horde covering the ground.

In that moment, the morays of Even's self-restraint were consigned to oblivion, and winter became wild.

Great caps surged across the field, the vegetation shriveling a cold death in its wake, the ice striking them through and through their flesh. He readily faced Marluxia when he turned to see him out on the street, his devilish prowl quickly begotten to numb confoundment.

Marluxia hesitated. Even realized he was without his scythe.

Enraged screams sounded behind the power of white hot fire, impacting a stunned Marluxia directly from his side. There was a cry of pain, and as the exploding blaze cleared, he was already distant in the garden proper, the last of him leaping over the barrier.

Lea rushed towards Even, Leon, Yuffie, and Captain Highwind all hauling to free Cloud from the withered mass.

"His pet-project's rooted in the center." He said, his breath stripped completely. "If we go in there all together, we can take IT and him out- "

"You will go seek Aerith." Even blurted earnestly, then looking over the rest of the group, raising his voice. "ALL of you."

"Professor, he is not playing around -!"

"Neither am I." The cold ambiance became belligerent. Lea began to shiver.

"You're not about to make this personal!"

"If THIS was at all about vengeance, Lea, how is it that you stand here in my presence without consequence?!" Decorum was lost in his fervor. Even inched right into the younger's face, fixated on it, where Lea flinchedly shrunk and recoiled. "Go to Aerith. The plant is secreting a toxin, and I would not chance that you have not yet been poisoned. Those of you who are well enough must help the town."

Not another word was said, and Lea only remained momentarily, breathless and trembling with battle-fever. He gave a curt nod, turned away, yelled for the others to move aside so that he alone would skillfully burn away the desiccation.

Deep within, the monster thundered. Even hastened into its lair, his frigid will wilting fibril herbage along his path.  
...

Even did not expect Marluxia to let him arrive unhindered. Vibrations through the roots would alert of his coming. The loss of body would antagonize him.

The ground splashed an ocean of soil, new sprouts tipped with razors meant for the kill. Snow gusted from Even's palm, and they dropped in cold shards. Even did not stop running.

The greenery thickened so, he knew what he would find. He pushed his way into the belly of the beast, and that belly swallowed him as he fell out and down its walls. Even had no time to look up; something crawled, cracked, then blew a high-whistling tune, the frondescence crashing profoundly where Even had landed and rolled away.

"You think you can fight me all by yourself?" Marluxia spoke serenely. Another vine rose above him. Then another. In between, he glimpsed the gardener and the core of his creation, flowers the richest blush, stems armored with the thickest of fiber.

Even jumped further into the center, one more piercing appendage missing its mark. He was so close, they locked eyes, and he, in that hanging trice, was surprised to find not wicked emptiness, the key mark of a Nobody; but true fear, exposing the botanist's soul.

He glanced up in time at a goliath tumbling upon him. He dashed, and sap spewed from its own broken parts.

Even understood now his deception at last. Control had no console, his powers intact but spreading as it may, rarely to heed him. "My people have seen enough damage done to their lives." He answered back grittingly, each ending syllable a sharp, bowling cloud. "I will not tolerate you squandering their peace!"

He raced back to his snowy world, now savage, unrelenting. His energy surged with a storm, his skin stinging, his being grown pale, winds howling with a blizzard that brimmed as far as he could reach. Dangerous icicles rained a merciless might, white burying life, emerald essence drained from the forest to feed the tempest, until a corpse of frozen blue, of brittle wood, made their arena.

His hands shook violently. His knees collapsed into the snow. Dizziness dethroning sense, he mettled against the weakness in his bones, the crying want of somnolence taking his eyes in dreary languor.

Even scoured for the male curves of a body, Marluxia nowhere upright among the fresh tundra.

A lumped shape laid on its side. He could not tell if it was unconscious or dead. The snow was a mountain to trudge for his ceaseless id, nearing to feel the figure's warmth.

Wet arms lashed out. Even slammed onto his back. Fusia filled his ebbing sight, a man's weight pressing down his diaphragm. "It seems you were trying to kill me, VEXEN." Marluxia jeered, as bladed iron settled on the ball of throat.

Unaware of his peril, high on asthenia and its brother, delirium, Even coughed a thoughtful chuckle. His head swayed lazily from side to side, humming wordlessly a cordial 'No' behind his lips.

"Even." He corrected him in a whisper. "My name is Even."

A shroud appeared from the dead shrub. The colors of Marluxia's face shifted to the hollers of a young voice, of a soft-spoken man with a dry animus. He rose to his feet, preparing to attack, too late discerning his real assailant behind casting a curse upon him, a dark net catching a great fish.

The next moment, Marluxia was gone. Pages of a book sheathed, and thumped when it closed. Haggard lengths of hair brushed Even's face, his focus returning briefly. Ienzo and his distraught features leaned over him, clear as day, his jaw quaking.

"Even!" Ienzo stammered, as a hand pushed under the small of his back. "Even! Are you alright!?"

Impulsed by relief, by aberrant joy and exuberation, Even suddenly reached for his godson. A desperate hug gripped Ienzo around his shoulders, the shorter stubs on the back of his head tousled between Even's fingers. Rocking him gently, his voice broke with the threat of tears

"Where have you been, Ienzo?" He rasped with a muffled wail. "I was so worried...I was so worried..."


	5. Aumaury: From Death's Hands

Aumaury: From Death's Hands

And so the end did not come, that he should make for what was lost.

...

Marluxia wondered if the dead had dreams. That by somber illusion, captured in eternity, their lives came to passing in surreal dimensions, of when they breathed manifested into chimerical domains. And on condition, such would be the soul's paradise. Or the mire of sin. A heaven and hell surely existent.

Here, darkness had surrounded him. Silence pierced through his ears. He sat in a petrifying abyss.

Fresh were the brands that marked calamity in his memory, like a disastrous drama, one epic act a chaos greater than the last; and in the final arc, an ultimatum of war, all of the actors descending into hell. Demons leapt for his life, fierce masks of power and sheer rage desiring to kill. Victory was the answer. Mercy would not do.

"'Even...My name is Even'".

The voice winnowed ripples of soothing water, silencing a fiery bedlam to become a pure and tranquil ocean; a mirror of crystalline parallel.

Panging danced within him - the kind he had once lost - for underneath the surface, Marluxia saw a dead man, more alive than ever before.

...

From dark to light, walls and the ceiling warped in blindingly, a light fixture right in Marluxia's face as gravity took hold. Momentum crashed his whole on the ball of his shoulder. By luck alone it would do no more than bruise on the stone plated floor.

Noise became his bane. Yelling voices blended indistinctly from any identity to a whole, a deluge in exigency composing an ensemble of glass, spellcasts and abject screams.

Marluxia looked up to see a doorway framing the discord. Beds were lined along the walls; several bloody, most employed. One man laid woebegotten, the side of his face snarled in streaking scars, holding out his hand to a kind woman with a brunette braid.

The door then closed abruptly, forcing him to turn to what other souls resided in the room.

Zexion's book -or whomever he may be - clasped tactfully before vanishing. He watched him surly through patterns swilled like morning fog. Beside him stood a codger, for whom Marluxia felt a strong familiarity: robed in blue, small spectacles clad atop his nose. He approached the barrier entrapping its detainee, seemingly hard to see in his age and the cloudiness of the immaterial shell.

"By God..." He gasped in a slight voice, before the mordacity became apparent, his poise denatured into cold harbourings. "Of all the culpable men in the worlds, never did I believe this whole pandemonium was your doing."

Zexion looked to him confusedly. A rugged middle-ager, espying the scene from a stool a top a rounded rise, hoarsely called above the clashing of animated china, that in a dog-piled army attempted vainly to push his seat off the edge. "You know him, wizzet?"

Sir Merlin The Wizard did not answer. In fact, Marluxia was sure he had not heard him at all, with what amount of asperity had deepened his focus, his arms in a tight twist as if to guard his emotion from possessing them. "What reason do you have for such violence?!"

"I was defending myself." Marluxia retorted with trained eloquence, though his tongue had slipped a profound accent, full of antipathy, "I have that right."

"So did you intend to kill?" asked Merlin abstinently. "To crush and poison everyone in your path?"

Marluxia's facade nearly came undone.

He stared aghast into the wizard's viper-filled eyes, at first believing what he understood mistaken. "Poison?" he repeated, stalling between syllables.

Merlin shuddered as an owl with incredulous pique, sharply branding the point of his wand directly at Lumaria. "Venin, monsieur." he said clearly, "Le monstre avait des éspines venimeuses."

Suddenly, his whole body roiled. His face gnarled in anger, despite an afflictive chime that began to burgeon in his ears, . "...Quoi?! C'est impos...! I did not raise those flowers with venom!" he barked earnestly, his tongue lost between words.

"But alas, you did. It nearly took one life tonight."

Terrible quiescence befell around them. Marluxia broke from Merlin's glare, hiding throe behind a leer that cast about the room. The china, though without eyes or ears, had halted to face their master. The youth in back, keeping to themselves as they tended to their wounds, froze looking at the two intensely, unimmune to the enmity within Merlin.

Taking one great breath, the old miser shook his head sordidly. "I shall inform you now", he stated, Marluxia only listening. "That as of this moment you and your friend, where ever she may be, shall be in confinement until we have decided what else to do with you."

"Presuming you can capture the both of us." Marluxia sneered through gritted teeth.

He spoke all too soon, much to the everyone's surprise, as the large beast who was Lexaeus barreled through the door, almost stumbling. Over his shoulder, his opponent hung defeated, unconscious without a spark of electricity - but his face was striped red and bleeding, his clothes singed to fraying ruins. The pretty healer had chased him, convincing him to rest finally for the sake of his burdened lungs. He respired so heavily that Zexion quickly carried to his side.

The ends of Marluxia's mouth twitched, teasing a satisfied smile.

Merlin gave pause, gracing him a silent, warning glance. He took his wand - for a moment seemingly aimed at the assassin - and by helpless instinct Marluxia withdrew to uselessly blocking the spell with his arms.

Yet the tool was meant for the subdued nymph. Like a weightless feather, she floated with Merlin's wand, while beside Marluxia's cage, a white line drew in the air. It gained thickness, then width, spewing blue clouds as it unfolded legs made of crude, yellow pine.

Larxene was laid out on the bed, facing Marluxia. He peered through the clout, sighting her cheek a rainbow of visceral colors, from her jaw to her temple painted in the ugliest sort of bruise he had ever seen.

...

The cell was wide, though split in two by a row of iron bars. Sad lambency from a gridded window was the only source of light, stale dust spinning in slow torrents, the grey shine sleeking Larxene's hair.

Marluxia sat with legs crossed, bleakly staring askance at the surfaces that walled in their isolation. Except in the light, every surface was an object of solid black, one in which any could look into and see a depth that had no meaning, a moonless night without the stars. He suspected protectives caused the illusion; protectives crafted by Zexion's deceitful hand.

All of himself loomed, the voracious creeper he had given life avowing for his strength, as if its memory had taken refuge within his flesh. He would sleep, but he could do no more than close his eyes for moments at a time. Instead, he waited simply for his companion to wake.

Patience was finally rewarded with small moanings, as loud as an orchestra in the mum. At the very sound, Marluxia jolted towards the bars. Her head began to turn haltingly, lashes fluttering blankly at first, immediately recognizing Lurmaria against the odious, shale background.

She lifted herself off her side sluggishly, sitting straight against the wall. Most of her injuries, the woman healer had mended; the blotch on her face had reduced to just a round smudge. Still, her pain showed, in an agonized wince and apical hisses. "...Damnit."

"How do you feel?" Marluxia beckoned.

The nymph scowled, not as strongly ablaze, "Like that bastard slogged me with his dead-weight toy."

He sighed, pointing to the luxuries left at her feet. There, a bucket steamed with fresh ice, and a Potion glowed brightly with its remedy. Larxene stared in a baffled guffaw. "Then I suppose those are his offerings of apology."

The biting grimace returned. However she was not withheld by contempt. She swiped the precious bottle by the neck, placing it between her thighs to keep it steady. Her hands wrestled weakly with the cork. "They didn't bother to leave some for you?"

"I suppose frostbite is not considered grievous." Marluxia replied flatly, as he stepped back to his bed, the clarion tune that was afflicting him causing a giddy fit in his head.

The acid undertone robbed Larxene's attention for her prize. "V...Vexen?" she blurted out.

It was not Vexen, he thought, though he nodded indolently. He could not distinguish the rancorous crow from the face he recalled, so foreign and disparate, long with weariness. Cold-blooded madness had died; austere genius and an old name had been brought back at its wake, with compassion, not spite, sheathed behind sober front, shadowing an endured welt of hardships passed.

Kindled in the image, Marluxia discovered a trinket of hope.

"Larxene." she lent him an expectant look, cloaked momentarily in a green aura, "What was your name before?"

Her head leaned puppet-like, pretending uncomfortable ignorance. "Before what?"

"Before your heart was taken." Marluxia explained with slight impatience.

She sat there quietly, contemplating perhaps to answer, or to not. His question had triggered something unforthcoming, a recollection or a sentiment, that made her ill at ease. "Irena." she replied, timid, "But it was easier for foreigners like Xemnas to say Erlena ... Why?"

Borne throbs, with no delight to spare, came from his throat in an abundance of laughter. He was unamused. He was not proud. "We achieved our goal after all." he said.

Prince Aumaury had always known the heart had been the richest trove.

...

Civil liberties with names are due to ( post/155446344296/a-kingdom-hearts-summary-characters-and-spoken) that I wrote.


	6. Kairi: The Ocean

Kairi: The Ocean

...

Seeing the boys should have given her joy; more so to learn she was to have once again purpose in their lives should have been her elation.

Bright smiles were nevertheless forced. Bubbly giggles, lies. Her pitch, as she encouraged Riku with heart, was as authentic as the dreams in her sleep, of peace in the sand and kissing tides.

She never once saw Sora. Donald and Goofy said he ran off, and had been gone for much longer than expected.

"This woman you're going after, Riku," she asked, less gaily then, "If she has been in the realm of darkness for that long, how do you know she's even still whole?"

Coming down the stairs, the mouse had gone ahead and summoned another door along the side - a smaller one, made of a caramel wood, with his insignia crafted in brilliantly stained class. He left them both with a palm begging for their patience, the door disappearing in a shining flock, lazy like lightning bugs.

"His Majesty trusts she's alive," responded Riku, continuing towards the doors at the bottom. "And I know for everything he's done for me that he's rarely wrong."

Kairi must have seemed apathetic, reacting with very little but a nod and a brisk hum. Riku eyed her with a frown. He sounded scathed. "Kairi." he gently asked, "You've been acting this whole trip like you have something to say...What gives?"

She turned to him, not so well-hidden the umbridge that had taken over the glint in her blue seas. If adolescence was the consort of despondency, she could forgive what she felt a growing pain. The boys did not deserve bitterness, she insisted upon herself. They had not abandoned her seeking adventure, or without her traveled the worlds to console wild desires of reckless merriment. If anything, they had sacrificed as much, at the risk of oblivion.

That she could not join them, regardless of her will, was what struck down her spirit as with the might of the weapon that was to be her own.

Effete to change her calor, Kairi shrugged, displaying a faint pip in her shoulders. "I just need you to be careful." she said, strangely staid beyond prediction. "I've almost lost the two of you once."

...

The stars were in full view on the bridge; so where Kairi spent the most of her time, two days through. Passing them by, she saw abounding reefs of suns and planets, all unique to their colors, their size, their composition. Sometimes they were the passerbys, shooting stars blazing tails of scintillating heat, or rough asteroids leisurely rolling through the corridors like sea turtles caught in the current.

The ship lurched riotously and dipped on its side. Something thudded under the floor beneath her shoes, which followed by Riku arising from the common's port in an aggravated prowl made clear the object had been his head.

Mickey, at the helm, chuckled apologetically, "Gosh, these corridors sure are messy sometimes." He righted the steering, flicked switches and dabbled some buttons, until the rocking jitters had smoothed completely. He refocused on their course, transfixed on a point in the distance.

Suddenly, he stood excitedly in his chair, able to note something afar that neither human present had the ken to share. Kairi grinned sheepishly at the king, who seemed like a stunted and disfigured lemur; rarely blinking, vigorously ogling at anything that wasn't a morsel tree.

Riku was equally averted, and in preference for leaving the King to his devices, he walked aside Kairi's seat, peering into the dome.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He whispered breathlessly.

"Yeah, it is." Kairi beamed in a soft reply, thinking of the blush starfish in the shallows as the ship crossed a magnificent constellation.

"Brings you home too, huh?"

She took from the scene briefly, and peered into the lucent gems of those shallows, gorgeously cerulean.

Without a doubt, Riku found the answer right from her soul. "I wish we could have stayed." He slipped a laugh, fallible in his somber mood, and Kairi, sensing brooding depression, let her hand to his shoulder, grip light and comforting. "We all wish we did." she corrected warmly. He smiled, her touch contenting.

"Here we are!" Mickey shouted as he hopped once, twice, high enough that his round ears could have touched the top of the ship. The two of them came to the fore, across lingering miles the telltale towers of what was once called Hollow Bastion.

It, too, had changed. Two castles now commanded the land, one falling, one rising. Kairi preferred to think little of the old one, decrepit and forgotten to disrepair, the giant copper pipes appearing to be crumbling under the elements.

The new castle, emerging as a radiant citadel, brought on an alien sensation. Uncanny with cognizance. Almost an intimate fairytale, come to life.

...

Docking a gummi was a daunting task, what with only a single flagger and a bay yet to be fully repaired. Docking Mickey's cruiser was treacherous. They landed, not as easily as any of them would have liked.

Whilst Mickey and Riku traveled through the various districts, a chalk-full curmudgeon named Cid acting as their guide, Kairi wandered aloof in the background. Hallow Bastion, as it surrounded her, had transformed from a place of ugly deprecation, remarkably unrecognizable as another world bright and redeeming, basking in the light.

Light she knew, but this city of its revere, she did not. She believed she did not. The cobble roads were nothing like sand trails between the villages, neat round fashioned buildings of stone, wood, and manmade concrete. Along them, she walked meeting scores of strangers, pressed to their destination, looking glad but sore with looming burdens.

Intuition brought her through a square, where on each end was a small garden of flowers; flowers, shaped like tiny cups with scalloped rims. Flowers, nodding together with the calm weather as if in song, on hardy stems that could not break. Kairi saw them, and strayed. She could not help herself.

On her finger, she felt the pedals fragile but thick, shy but blooming, unlike the flamboyant hibiscus or their cousins on the islands. Black steema she found sheltered inside their walls, promises fulfilled long ago to the bees and the hummingbirds who hungered sweet dew.

Flowers had names, she thought. She had not considered flourishings such as these. Rest assured was she to have never met them before in her life. Nevertheless, in a thunderous epitome the darkness in her conscious spoke, a lonely token escaping from the gulch.

Tulips.

Kairi winced, feeling peculiar.

"Tulips." she repeated quietly, again bringing her hands around the crimson jewels, coddling them, reclusive wonderment subsisting. As she lasted by the garden, the progression of time was lost on her, and someone, perhaps curious that she would marvel at something otherwise trifle, arrived behind her, the shadow shrouding over her newfound treasures. "They are wonderful, aren't they?" its voice said, matter-of-fact, "But I must admit, I much rather prefer the violets."

She swerved, her daydreamings broken, finding a boy-near-man minding her musingly. Storm-cloud hairs obscured one eye. Even as astonishment stretch out his face, he seemed childlike, leftovers of infancy stuck filling the bones of his cheeks. On the surface, he was vacant, blanketing a veneer of distant contemplation.

There was a word just before Kairi's tongue; the phonetics dwindling in the mind, but never fully connecting. She saw into his eye, in the depth a sentimental and tender soul. Her heart confided, without evidence of certainty, that he was a friend.

"Violets?" She inquired carefully, standing up from the garden border. "You mean like the color?"

The odd boy appeared leery, refuting shyly, "No, no, they are a type of flower".

"What do they look like?" Kairi continued. Not readily answering, the boy appraised her as if suspicious her innocence genuine. After a long, gilded look, however, he straightened his posture, offering her with timorous pleasantry. "I may show you a plot where they are planted, if you wish to see them."

Kairi bloomed, unexpectant of his hospitality.

...

The violets were regal. Their charm was that of queens, black eyes and lips magisterial on light skin, collared by darker rings of plum.

A few were heat withered, drooping, drying. Kairi precieved why they would never survive on the islands - the blessed sun would be too much for them.

The boy observed them next to her. At a second glance, Kairi noticed that his hair was not purely grey, but had purple tones alike the violets themselves. "I can see why you like them so much."

He started, vaguely confounded. "H-how so?"

She looked back at the flowers. Their heads bobbed, leaves waving, with little else to say. They were not the smallest Kairi had met, but by all of their majesty, they were humble, and gracious as princes and princesses in a parading chariot.

"They're quiet." Kairi replied, mostly absent, "They like to give, but don't really want much in return."

Glances gingerly perused between Kairi and the violets, the boy seeming quite estranged by her rumination. "I understand." he said, though truly his confidence showed he did not. Having enough of gardens, he scanned around the square with awkward awareness, apprehensive of something or someone hiding in the alleys. "May I ask you," he questioned nervously, the increasing severity of his stammer impassable to ignore. "Did you come here with someone?"

Riku! Riku, and Mickey, jumped out from the bog of her imagination, clearing away the haze. Kairi released a stunned gasp. "Yes! Yes, I did!" she admitted, gripping her head in distress.

The boy began walking by the stairs, monitoring one direction of the square to the other, and the other, frantically vigilant to an excess. "I suspect they maybe looking for you." he stated.

"What do you mean?"

"Kairi!"

For how quickly the boy sprinted, the shout could have been the screeches of a savage wraith. He managed until his legs seemed to turn gelatinous mid-way up, in consequence his foot catching and toppling him on his front. Kairi hurried to him, grabbing for his arm to turn him over; his chin had scraped, blood spattered on the edge of a stair-step that where his lips had gashed.

"Kairi!" Riku called, his volume rising rapidly. Soon, he had sped around the corner from the other end of the block, coming towards her, swift as a sparrow. "Kairi! Where have you been?!"

His feet slid to a stop, all at once. Riku was seized, agog, not at Kairi, but the one whose arm she had held. Kairi felt her new acquaintance rattle in cold shivers, then looking over to his eye locked in outright fear, skin turning pallid as if deathly ill.

By the tight clasp of his fists, the truculent snarl on his face, Kairi recognized Riku's own hatred goad him before his keyblade was branded above his head. Mickey and the begrudging tour-guide finally appeared after him, both leaping in the intersection, making haste with begging cries. Kairi was vexed. "Riku, what the hell are you doing!?"

"Get away from him, Kairi!?" Riku growled, darkly belligerent, as he aimed at the boy with the intent to strike.

"Riku, don't - !"

The boy began the chase, ripping away from Kairi's hand to flee across the square. Like a badger after a scattered hare, the two raced. Kairi followed, propelled by endurance, the mockingjay to Riku's back. "Riku! RIKU!"

Tiring too soon, a race fast became a deadly game of tag for the frontrunner, spurring a clear act of desperation: darkness, smoldered around the boy's hands, summoned a black vortex in their path. He scurried into the umbra. Riku, finally upon him, speared in second with all of his wrath. Last but not least, Kairi narrowly slipped through the corridor's maw, as it began to disintegrate into smoke.

The darkness was neither friend nor foe to kairi, but as to any poor soul, it conveyed a cat's conniving and whimsical fancy. It fed her, to the same place in the same room, but not at the same height. She dropped, having seconds to interpret the cottage like structure, the flash of red and blazing green eyes looking up.

Axel - or Lea, as it was - had the sour luck of breaking her fall.

Deafness was to his mummed groanings aside the horrendous fight that had erupted. The boy casted spells at Riku meant to delay him, while Riku ferociously charged, causing unabated destruction. Footsteps stomped from the wooden mezzanine, introducing likely competitors into the ring; two tall, muscular men discovering the upheaval with blatant distress.

Kairi's heart was short from exploding, between the fight that was now and when in the next moments was to deteriorate before her inaction. Create a madhouse with her indecision. A bed a darkness for her cowardice.

It was then that Kairi lanced with a strength as she had once distantly felt, the light calling to her destiny's embrace, the energy by which she drove evinced her valor insurmountable. And she aimed, for Riku's side.

That capacity was the whole cottage to witness, and seek all sides for safety against the walls. Riku seemed dazed like the sun in his eyes, a dent in the plaster behind his head, and as his wit came back about, they had the whole moon, and stars too, collected in the sky.

"ARE YOU DONE?!" Kairi screamed, making Riku cow in a show unlike him.

His mouth fumbled, flummoxed still as he answered, "If you knew who he was, -"

"He is not my problem!" She marched forward, her free fist hurdling in rage, "He didn't do anything for you to start this whole fucking mess, and you are a KEYBLADE MASTER!"

"Kairi, he - " Riku at first pointed his sword to the boy, bloodied and huddled next to a collapsed bookshelf. He saw the two guards, and a thin blonde watching from the doorway, knowing their faces almost immediately in stark disconcertion, " - All of these people right here almost destroyed everything! They tried to kill us!"

"You mean what you just tried to do to him?!" Kairi raved, this time storming upon him, her infuriation forthright onerous with the jagged end of her Destiny whipping whistles around his ear.

Riku grew sober, resigning to the tempest gorging him, edge snapping through every part of her muscle. "Kairi, they're dangerous." He pleaded, gently resorting to placating an incorrigible furor.

Out of acidic humor, she chuckled smartly. Danger belied all around them, so she could say. Tainted hearts remained fodder for ilk temptation, and the temptation fulfilling their disease as a black gold. Was it suddenly her concern that she be in the way, that she should hide in a coffin as a comatose vessel, while darkness sated its thirst on the daring and the naive?

No, and for such a thought, Kairi was irrevocably insulted. "So were you." She scoffed.

"Kairi."

"I swear if you say my name one more time, Riku!" She bellowed in a final stomp, as she spun with a dare swept across her face.

Riku stared at her, throttled into a rout. The door swung open with a insistent push, Mickey dashing towards Riku, and the pilot to a giant, mounted screen, assessing for damage. He helped Riku lift up off the floor, shambles of furniture shifting from his limbs.

Kairi came for the boy, worried a curse had forced him to vomit as he had tried to rise on his own. "Are you okay?" she asked urgently, knowing the uselessness of her query as he patently fixed on her, dumb.

Hearing voices mutter in a low tones, Kairi rounded to a brunette in black lead Riku outside, him pitching an easy limp. He looked back to see her, as if hoping for a blissful smile, a gentle sign of her sympathy. Kairi glowered, and gave him none of it.

...

In a room secluded from all but the gleam of dusk, a healer finnicked over molted skin and lesions. The boy was washed, then dabbed, with potions galore, Kairi sitting to the side, graciously patient.

Lea shared the space with them, complaining of his back. By the afternoon zenith, he stood out with his red hair shimmering threads of gold, the essence of his soul a valiant lush of jade brothed hazel. He avoided looking at anyone but the healer directly.

"All right, it looks like everything's healing." the lady Aerith said, even as she scanned the boy once over in uncertainty, "Do you need anything else?"

Barely did he seem recovered. His arms were packed about himself. Lungs were jostled for air. Still, he politely refused, clamly tipping his head, "No, I'm fine. Thank you."

Aerith gave him a passing nod, therein placing her attention to the next person in waiting, who was told to discard his coat and face away. She may as well have asked Lea to swim in a pool full of eels, his expression chastened while Aerith prodded the length of his vertebrae.

Kairi thought better of speaking, though she wished she had then a tea set and a batch of 'awa for her to boil. She moved to the bed, expressly exposing herself to the bathing sunlight. Inevitably, the boy did join her, his bare eye cringing as his iris was set aglow. He melted at its cusp.

At one point, his courage gathered, speaking demurely as a mouse. "He is right." He said finally, heard by none beyond Kairi, unable to regard anything but the day extinguishing its last hours. His mood was pithy, dolorous, resonating an unbidden eulogy of regret. "I am responsible for much of what happened here. Had Riku and Sora not taken up the mantle, all of existence would have been lost."

"Riku almost helped it. He's not exactly innocent in that sense." A ragged Kairi argued.

"From my understanding," The boy took in a frown, eyeing her unflinchingly with a sideways glance. "Your friend was possessed, and the black fairy is notorious for being abusive to her pawns. I was under neither duress."

If Kairi's hair had been feathers, they would have ruffled purely out of stubbornness. Her tenor became unwittingly above a whisper, enough that Aerith and Lea listened to a surfeit of her debate. "But it wasn't just you!"

The boy's mouth opened, then closed. He continued glimpsing peacefully through the window, pensively posting his chin on whitened wrists, his expression returning to that opaque veil of indifference. Kairi realized she had spoken too freely.

For the second time that day, Kairi reached for her unknown companion. Her fingers kindly grasping his arm surprised him so, that he could not deny her his full diligence. "I'm so sorry this happened to you." She finished, with her sympathy puffing the rest of her frustrated fumes, "I can't at all understand what was going through Riku's head..."

"Oh, so you'll apologize to him, but not to the guy whose spine you almost snapped." Lea broke in, rolling down the sleeves as he fixed the fitting of his coat. The boy developed a horrible scowl, one only Kairi caught.

As she turned to address the red-haired lank, Kairi held her back straighter, her chest farther, the rabbit-point of nose high towards the ceiling. She faired the demeanor of a royal snob, missing a luscious gown and dining hall of pedigreed guests. "I'm sorry you got what you deserved," she responded calmly in exaggerated politeness, "ASS-el."

Lea soddened. Scorned, he rose up and exited the room with an irascible sigh, although red with indignity than livid resentment. Aerith said not a word, but placidly chided a sad totter to show her disappointment. Childish as it was, Kairi cared not.

Apparently even less concerned was the boy. She noticed he was fighting down a laugh, a colossal grin trying to rupture his depressive cue. Pleased, and giddy with accomplished ardor, Kairi laid out her hand to shake. "I'm Kairi, by the way."

The boy paused at her manner, thoughts striking transparently across his eye. He deliberated, shortly, as he regarded her offered hand, reserved about it like a misconceived artifact whisked far from its home. Nevertheless, when he pried Kairi's smile, he gave in with his own, Kairi happily taking his whole forearm in a giant shake.

"And what's your name?" she jubilantly queried, "Since, I never bothered to ask."

She saw him shrink, diffident, "Ienzo." the boy admitted, almost afraid to say his name at all. "My name is Ienzo."

Kairi froze, in a spell of déjà vu. Her id screamed loud, but it had no voice to be heard.


End file.
